A burst of anger nearly took Isobel’s breath. His talk of his love for her mother had been nothing but lies!
“I will forgive ye this time, Daughter, as ye did nae gain years in my household, but this will be the only time I ever forgive ye for disobedience. Hear me now—ye will marry as I say. Ye will do as I say.” He waved a hand at the man with the white hair. “This is the Earl of March. He wishes his son, James—” her father indicated the slender young man behind them with the unkind eyes “—to marry ye now that the MacLeod is dead. I’ve agreed. Ye will wed in the morning and will immediately travel with yer husband to Brigid to take possession of yer castle from yer grandmother. The old witch will nae refuse ye entry, and she kinnae demand her husband, the MacKinnon, call up his men to stop ye from taking the castle as she did to me.”
Isobel’s blood roared in her ears. “Ye tried to take Brigid from Grandmother?”
Her father scoffed. “Of course I did, ye foolish woman.”
The horrible truth sank in and wrapped around Isobel’s heart like a thorny vine, making her want to scream and wail. Graham had been right: her father did not love her. And if Graham was right about that, then it stood to reason that the rest of what he had spoken was the truth.
When James started to descend the stairs and walked toward her, she realized she had missed something vital. “Father—” she started to protest, but she stopped herself before saying anything more. She knew with a horrid certainty that her father would force her to marry if he thought he must.
“What is it, Isobel?” her father demanded, his brows dipping together. The ferocious scowl that came to his face further cautioned her not to voice how she felt.
Her mind raced with what she had to do. She had to escape and make her way to Oban. The sudden sting of her nails against her palms alerted her to the fact that she had curled her hands into tight fists. She released them immediately but too late for the action not to go unnoticed by her father.
He speared her with a menacing gaze. “Should I have ye married this verra moment and let all watch as ye’re properly taken to wife, or do I nae need fash that ye will try to avoid another marriage I have ordered?”
It was not a question, but a command. “Nay, Father,” she quickly replied, her body trembling with fear. “I have nae ever wanted anything more than to please ye.” She had dreamed often of when they would finally have time to spend together. She always imagined her father teaching her the things she had never learned, such as how to properly ride a horse or wield a weapon in self-defense. That would never be. He did not love her. He’d never care to spend that time with her as she had dreamed.
James came to stand in front of her, and he grasped her by the elbow. His fingers were as cold as the snow, and she suspected his heart was, too. The strength of his grip surprised her, given how slim he was.
Gray eyes locked on hers and a smile, which looked forced, came to his lips. “Isobel, come, let us learn each other somewhat, as we will soon be husband and wife.”
Her first instinct was to jerk out of his hold, but she knew she must appear compliant. Otherwise, she might find herself on her back with this man atop her. A sour taste filled her mouth at the thought and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her, but she battled it as she was half dragged from the room.
She stumbled in an effort to keep up with the man who she might well soon callhusband. He did not pause to help her but pulled her along and kept up a fast pace to the courtyard. Once they were outside, he swung her around and faced her. He was tall, but not near as tall as Graham. The thought of the man she had not long ago been so sure was her enemy made her want to cry, or possibly laugh at what a terrible fool she was. She had escaped a man who, though he had seized her, she felt sure would have wielded whatever influence he could with King David to ensure she was wed to a decent man, and now in turn, she was under her father’s care—who she had run to—and she was quite sure he would wed her to whomever he needed to get his hands on Brigid.
“I dunnae wish to marry ye,” snarled the man in front of her, “but I will because I must or I shall face my father’s wrath.” He yanked a hand through his hair as he glared at her, and then his gaze slowly crawled down her body and back up, lingering on her chest. “My father says ye will make me like women.”
She frowned at that statement. Did he mean—
“I dunnae see how,” he said. When he suddenly reached behind her and squeezed her bottom, she yelped in shocked fright, and a smile of pure pleasure came to his face that stole her breath. “Perchance Father is correct. I will enjoy watching ye writhe in pain, and then I will watch my lover as he squirms in pleasure.”
With those ominous words he shoved her away. “Seek out the healer Maria tonight. I’ve heard she can give ye something to prevent a bairn. Our fathers will demand a public joining in the morning, else I’d nae ever put my body in yers.” He shuddered with obvious disgust. He grabbed her by the chin and squeezed. “If I get ye with bairn, ye will be punished for yer error. Do ye ken?”
Searing anger poured through her, chasing away every bit of cold with heat. She forced a smile. “James, I vow to ye, ye will nae ever get me with a bairn.” He would never have the chance.
It did not take Isobel long to find Maria, though she did not go to the herb room for the purpose of getting a potion to prevent a bairn like the clot-heid James had ordered. She came for information that she somehow had to get without alerting the healer to what she was doing. Isobel needed to know how to get to Brigid Castle, and there was no one she could simply ask. Somehow, she had to learn if Maria knew the way and then she had to get the woman to tell her without considering what she was doing. Isobel sagged at the enormity of the task ahead of her.
Isobel made her way carefully down the slippery, narrow stone steps, keeping one hand on the damp stone wall as she descended from the charred remains of the keep floor to the dungeon level, which was relatively intact. James had told her that Maria’s room was beside the dungeon. Isobel picked her way along the dark passage, lit only by shafts of light from flickering torches that protruded from a hook in the wall near the end of the passage.
There was a door ajar, and humming came from within, along with a trail of white smoke that smelled strongly of some sort of incense. Isobel knocked on the door.
“Enter,” came what sounded like the voice of a young woman. Isobel slowly walked into the room, and as she did, a woman with long silver hair and large green eyes turned toward her. The woman’s hair was an odd contrast to her unlined face. She smiled at Isobel, what appeared to be a genuine smile, and motioned to her hair. “It turned silver when I was but fifteen summers.”
“I didn’t mean to stare,” Isobel hastily replied.
The woman shrugged. “Yer staring dunnae harm me. Everyone does it. I’m used to it. The only person who did nae stare was Marsaili, and I ken that was because she kenned verra well how it felt to be stared at with Jean convincing everyone Marsaili was simple-minded.” Maria gave Isobel a long look before cocking her head. “Did yer sister make it to safety?”
The blunt question—and what it implied this woman knew of Marsaili’s plan—surprised Isobel. She bit her lip, unsure what to reveal. She had no notion whether Maria was friend or foe. “I’m unsure. Ye ken Marsaili was taken by the MacLeods?”
Maria snorted. “I ken Marsaili sent a note that brought them here.”
Isobel’s eyes widened.
Maria chuckled, quickly brushed by Isobel, and closed the door. When she faced Isobel, she had a smirk on her face. “Too many prying ears in this castle. I’m the one that helped Marsaili come up with her scheme, so ye dunnae need to feign as if ye dunnae ken what I’m talking about.”
Isobel nibbled at her lip as she tried to decide whether to trust this woman or not.
